


Men seldom

by Deputychairman



Category: due South
Genre: First Time, M/M, RayK's glasses, look even better on Fraser's bedroom floor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deputychairman/pseuds/Deputychairman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no question of extracting his hand. Ray was asleep in his bed and holding his hand. Ray was naked except for that sock. A man couldn’t risk breaking a spell like this just to get his hand back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men seldom

The door slammed behind them.

Something went crash, and something else clattered.

The bed gave an alarming creak when they landed, and Ray’s boots hitting the floor went thump, thump.

But Fraser didn’t care how much noise they were making or what his new neighbours might think. Ray was in his bed, Ray was wriggling out of his jeans and dear god Ray was flicking the buttons on Fraser’s jeans open and tugging at his shirt and pulling him closer all at the same time. His neatly made bed, where he tried not to let himself think about Ray, suddenly,  overwhelmingly, had Ray sprawled all over it, increasingly undressed and vigorously demonstrating his desire that Fraser should join him in both the sprawling and the undressing. As if his repressed imagination had suddenly conjured up what he knew he shouldn’t think about and thought he couldn’t have: conjured it up and delivered it with intense, hungry kisses right into his bed.

Ray was muttering, “Fraser, Fraser – yeah – can I,” and Fraser wasn’t letting him finish, Fraser was pressing him down and kissing him deeper, harder because the question was redundant, Ray didn’t need to ask, of _course_ he could. Ray could have whatever he wanted; he could do whatever he wanted. There was nothing Ray could ask for that he wouldn’t give him.

Ray could touch him everywhere, pull their bodies together, move against him all soft skin and hard muscle, breathing hard beneath him until it overwhelmed both of them and he had just a second to watch Ray’s face transformed by orgasm before going over the edge himself.

 

*

Ray held his hand and smiled at him sleepily. He still had one sock on.

Ray went to sleep in his bed. Stretched out on his stomach, hair in wild disarray, the outline of his tattoo just visible in the glow from the streetlights through the curtains.

There was no question of extracting his hand. Ray was asleep in his bed and holding his hand. Ray was naked except for that sock. A man couldn’t risk breaking a spell like this just to get his hand back.

Ben lay down at Ray’s side to watch him sleep.

 

*

He heard Dief pad into the bedroom, picking his way between their discarded clothing and whatever it was that had gone crash and gone clatter, and the boots that had gone thump. Ben still didn’t care.

The white tips of Dief’s ears appeared at Ray’s shoulder (and he had almost thought of that as _Ray’s side of the bed_ – terrible, presumptuous thought, that must be quelled at once lest it jinx everything with hubris and overconfidence; _the side of the bed where Ray was sleeping_ , he corrected mentally, at once. One wish coming true for one night was more than a man might hope for; to start wanting more was to invite disaster) and then the rest of his face as he leaned up to smell Ray. His tongue flicked out to lick at Ray’s ear.

“Diefenbaker!” Ben hissed, scandalised, propping himself up on one elbow to glare.

Even that whisper was enough to make Ray shift in his sleep: he withdrew his hand and settled more firmly on his belly, face buried in the pillow.

“Now look what you’ve done! If you wake him up…” but he had no suitable threat to finish his sentence. _If you wake him up, he’ll go home_ would hardly cow a wild animal, devastating though the prospect was to Ben.

But for once Dief was blessedly understanding. He dropped back to all fours, and came silently around to Ben’s side of the bed to snuffle gently at his face. Which was surely enough to give him all the answers he might have wanted as to what Ray was doing in Ben’s bed.

But he showed uncharacteristic restraint: a faint yip was his only comment.

“Yes, I know you did,” Ben replied. “But it’s not that simple.”

Dief’s whine was almost smug.

“Well you would say that, because you want to be right all the time. But it’s different for people.”

The wolf just looked at him, tongue lolling.

“Diefenbaker, I’m not having this conversation with you - you mind your business and I’ll mind mine. I don’t go giving you advice on your - ”

He had been going to say _love life._ The words had been on the tip of his tongue! _Love_ life! It must be endorphins, oxytocin, fatigue – a lethal cocktail weakening his already fatally compromised self-control. Nothing that had happened tonight had showed the slightest sign of self-control on his part. Nor on Ray’s, but the terms of their partnership quite clearly assigned Ray the role of acting on instinct. Ray was fully within his rights to behave as he had. He, on the other hand – he was supposed to bring _logic_ to the table.

The only logic he had to offer on the occasion of having taken his partner to bed was that he had wanted Ray so very much he just hadn’t stopped to think it through. And that wasn’t logic at all, what was he _blithering_ about –

Ben found he was fighting an almost hysterical urge to laugh. He lay back down and tried to get a grip. He was a grown man, a Mountie, he had no excuse for hysterics!

Again his slight movement was enough to make Ray stir in his sleep and mutter something that sounded like, “Calamari…”  Ben froze, praying he wouldn’t wake.

And he didn’t. He just curled closer and reached out to wrap an arm around Ben’s waist, nuzzling his face into the back of Ben’s neck in an embrace he would surely never have initiated when awake. Or would he? Ben hadn’t thought Ray would want to kiss him, or go to bed with him, or hold his hand as he fell asleep, so really, what did he know? He had been wrong about _everything_.

 

Diefenbaker did not show affection lightly, but he chose this moment to put his front paws on the bed and reach up to lick Ben lightly on the forehead.

“Well, thank you,” Ben whispered, not moving a muscle. “I appreciate that.”

He hadn’t expected to fall asleep with the rich strangeness of Ray wrapped around him, but somehow the comforting sounds of the late-night traffic outside, Ray’s breathing and Dief’s claws tapping gently around the room must have lulled him. He was vaguely aware of Dief moving around as though looking for something, snuffling at whatever he’d found – a forgotten candy in Ray’s pocket? Right now he really didn’t care enough to find out – as he drifted off, Ray’s arm warm and heavy around him.

 

***

 

When he tiptoed back from the bathroom at first light, the bed was empty.

For just a second his heart fell like a physical sensation, the disappointment so keen he felt it in the pit of his stomach.

 

Then Ray’s wild-haired head appeared on the far side of the bed like a vision.

“Frase! Hey! I was just - ”

The relief was so great he couldn’t help a doubtless very foolish smile from breaking out.

“What?” Ray asked suspiciously as Ben approached.

“Nothing, Ray. I’m just – pleased to see you.”

Ray grinned, his appraising gaze taking in Ben’s nakedness.

“Yeah, I’m plenty pleased to see you too,” he said, getting to his feet. “And I’d kinda like to see you _better_ , only I can’t find my glasses. I had ‘em on last night, when you – I mean, I took my shirt off, and they musta - ”

Of course he had been wearing them last night.

Ben had always appreciated Ray’s glasses: for his outstanding marksmanship while wearing them, of course; but he had to admit there was much more to it than that. The prickly mix of vulnerability and aggression, almost the essence of Ray, which seemed at its most acute when his glasses were on. The faintly bookish air they gave him, masking his deadly accuracy with a handgun. The way he had _no idea_ how beautiful he was, or what the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheekbone did to Ben when he half-closed his eyes…

And last night, Ray had turned unexpectedly fast, and Ben had been too close and staring at Ray with his glasses on.

And Ray had caught him at it, and Ray _had_ known.

They had both frozen for a second, almost nose to nose in a ridiculous tableau of awkwardness, until Ben’s instincts had shouted down his better judgement, and he had kissed Ray hard and unmistakably.

 

And Ray had kissed him back.

 

Ray had kissed him back outside in the hallway; inside in the vestibule once he’d got the door open with clumsy hands; and all the way through his new apartment until they tumbled onto the bed.

One of the things that had gone crash or clatter must have been Ray’s glasses.

 

“Oh, well, let’s see now - ” Ben began, stepping forward to join the search.

It was only then that he properly noticed Ray had no more clothes on than he did, and appeared to be having a – reaction. To his presence? Or a mere physiological response to the early hour? Probably it would have been polite to tear his gaze away to the floor, where Ray’s glasses might reasonably be found. But he couldn’t, it was beyond him: he was staring at Ray, at his general nakedness and more specifically his filling cock, and then Ben was having a _reaction_ of his own.

“Or we could look for them later,” Ray said, voice gone husky.

Ben did not give his body any instruction to move, but almost before the words were out of Ray’s mouth the universe had rearranged its molecules so that his arms were tight around Ray and Ray was kissing him fiercely, one hand buried in his hair, already pushing him back to bed.

So it seemed only polite to let himself be pushed. Ray was his guest, after all, and if what Ray wanted was to press him back into the mattress and kiss his way down Ben’s body, then all the norms of hospitality indicated he should go along with it. If it just so happened to be what he wanted most in all the world, well, that had nothing to do with anything. Ray’s hot mouth was on him and Ray was making soft little sounds of contentment as he sucked Ben in, driving him out of his mind with the pleasure of it.

It was just as well Ben had had no time to think of things like performance and stamina and self-control, because he displayed none of them. No charade of control could be maintained with Ray’s hands on him, Ray’s lips closed around him, Ray’s cheeks hollowed as he sucked, and his eyelashes – dear god, his eyelashes –

And at that he had no choice at all but to close his eyes and give in to the overwhelming physical sensations Ray’s mouth was provoking. He knew he was crying out in a strange hoarse voice, and that Ray was stroking him through it, saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re _so_ fucking hot like this…” but it was all happening in spite of him and he rode the wave of it until he washed up breathless and panting, his whole body trembling from it.

 

Ben opened his eyes to Ray wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grinning down at him.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Ben said back, but his voice came out in a ridiculous croak.

Ray’s grin widened.

“That is the best reaction I have _ever_ gotten to going down on someone. Way to make a guy feel good about himself, Frase.”

Ben blinked up at him stupidly before the obvious response provided itself through his sated haze.          

“I’m sure there must be something else I could do to make you feel good, Ray,” he said, licking his lips and letting his gaze drift down Ray’s body to his erection.

“Oh, yeah,” Ray breathed.

 

Ben had the same sensation of the world moving to accommodate them, it was all so easy. One second he was on his back looking up at Ray: the next he had rolled them over and it was Ray gazing up at him, waiting breathlessly for what he was going to do next.

Ben’s eyes followed as one of Ray’s hands closed lazily around his cock; and then Ben’s hand followed; and then he had to taste.

Ray moaned as he licked at the head, and moaned even louder as Ben took the thick length of him deep into his mouth. He carried on moaning and rocking his hips as Ben sucked deeper, hands fisting in the sheets, and then astonishingly fast, before Ben had even had time to get used to any of it, Ray was already gasping and spilling slick salt into his mouth.

 

Ben sat back on his heels, drinking in the sight of Ray loose-limbed and debauched on his old flannel sheets.

“Sorry,” Ray managed after a moment. “Didn’t mean to – uh – you know, it’s been a while.” He opened his eyes. “Apart from last night, I mean. But I got some catching up to do.”

“I’d be more than happy to help with that, Ray.”

“Yeah?”

“Very much so.”

“Ok then. You got a deal.”

Ben knew he was smiling foolishly again, but then the same look was on Ray’s face and he decided he wasn’t going to care.

 

***

 

“Hey, where _are_ my glasses anyway?” Ray asked later.

Ben sat up and looked around the room.

As if he had been waiting at the door for an appropriate moment to make his entry, Diefenbaker appeared. Ben sincerely hoped he _hadn’t_ been waiting at the door: even a mostly deaf wolf would have heard enough to know that discretion was called for, surely?

He went straight to the bookshelf in the corner, then returned to the bed to drop something in Ray’s lap.

His glasses, to be exact. Smeared with wolf-spit, doubtless, but otherwise undamaged.

“I didn’t put them there, did I?” Ray asked. “I don’t remember doing that. That ain’t the kind of thing I do.”

The rummaging, searching sounds Ben had been half-aware of in the night suddenly fell into place.

“Thank you, Diefenbaker,” he said solemnly. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

Dief gave a yip of acknowledgement and sat back on his haunches, tongue lolling, as if awaiting reward.

“You gotta be kidding me. _You_ moved ‘em?” Ray asked Dief. His voice was incredulous, but Ben had found that once a grown man sincerely asks a wild animal a question, it is more logically consistent to accept that animal’s answer than doubt its word.

Dief yipped again.

“Hey, well, thanks buddy. I owe you one. Woulda stepped on them otherwise.”

 

Whether for the sake of logical consistency or via some other route of his own, Ray had arrived at the same conclusion Ben had: it was best to believe Diefenbaker. Yes, he was undisciplined, growing soft, prone to greed and mercurial, but as wolves go he had always been largely truthful.

One of them most likely _would_ have stepped on Ray’s glasses, and what other possible motive than altruism could Dief have had in removing them to a safe place? It was a gesture of approval – for some time now he had been making sly insinuations about the way Ben looked at Ray, and, according to him, the way Ray looked back. Ben had taken it for mockery – that was the kind of relationship he had with Diefenbaker. But now with this unexpectedly thoughtful gesture, all the pointed licking of ears took on a new significance.

You could never be sure with wolves, but it certainly looked like a welcome. To the apartment, to the pack, to Fraser’s bed.  Ray had always been liberal with processed food, and that was an emotional currency which bore weight in Dief’s world.

This deliberate show of approval from a wolf was strangely comforting. Even if his own judgement had taken a leave of absence, he could still count on Diefenbaker.

 

And Ray, of course.

 

Ray who had laid back down beside him, holding his smeared glasses up to the light.

“Yeah these are pretty disgusting now,” he said, as if Ben had asked a question. “But that’s better than broken, right?”

It certainly was. Ray doubtless had others, but breaking _this_ pair would have seemed like a bad omen.

“I can wash them for you, if you like,” Ben offered.

Ray flashed a shy smile at him. Oh, Ray knew how he felt about those glasses alright.

“Nah, s’okay, I’ll do it. But we should give the wolf a treat. Hey, how ‘bout that donut place on 29th? Hey Dief, buddy, you and Fraser wanna come get donuts with me? Huh?”

Dief barked and leapt up onto the bed. Which he wasn’t supposed to do, just like he wasn’t supposed to eat sugary food, or make pointed suggestions about _pining_ , or lick Ray’s ears.

But Ben decided not to say anything. Just this once.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes once again I have written a whole story based on a throwaway remark on Tumblr. Yes, you might wonder if that was really necessary. I decided that it was. The title, obviously, is from Dorothy Parker: "Men seldom make passes/At girls who wear glasses."
> 
> Thanks to Catladyinwaiting for beta, sharp-eyed pronoun wrangling, and late-night musing on when Fraser is Fraser and when he is Ben.


End file.
